


I'll Fight For You

by Fruity446



Series: Don't Let Me Go [2]
Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Adriel is sassy, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Beatrice kicks ass, Camila and Lilith are married, Cottage core lesbians, F/F, Halo - Freeform, Heroes, It has been an entire book and Ava and Beatrice haven't kissed yet, JC and Ava are married, Lesbians, Lilith and Camila live on a farm, Love, Slow Burn, Swordfighting, Violence, War, Warrior nuns, maybe they will in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29942283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fruity446/pseuds/Fruity446
Summary: In an alternate dimension, it is Sister Beatrice's mission to track down her sisters and the fallen halo bearer to restore their memories.It is in this alternate universe that Beatrice explores a life she could never have back in her world. A life full of partying and romantic flings. But when she crosses path with Ava Silva for the first time in this new Earth, can she bear to drag the love of her life into this life threatening mission just to save a planet that isn't even hers anymore?
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva, Sister Lilith/Sister Camila
Series: Don't Let Me Go [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202012
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. The Whispering

**Purple** was all Beatrice could see. The portal expanded, then contracted around her form like a jellyfish bobbing through the murky sea. She felt nauseous, her lunch threatening to spill out of her stomach as she zoomed through the space time continuum. Images of Ava's dead body flashed past her eyes as she was tipped upside down by the jelly-like portal, the memory still so fresh that she could almost feel the blood wrapping around her wrists like vines, could see Adriel ripping the halo out of the brunette's back victoriously as she crumpled like a ragdoll. 

The jelly substance lurched forward, a strangled cry leaving her throat. Briefly, she caught a glimpse of the stars twinkling against the navy canvas of God's gallery, dripping like fresh paint. But then the painting was gone, replaced once more by her new vessel, as it jerked from left to right before dumping its contents against the fresh new gravel. 

The jagged rocks sank into soft flesh, nibbling greedily against the skin, drawing out tentacles of crimson. Beatrice hissed in annoyance, wiping the tentacles against her combat gear, wincing as the cuts reacted to the new oxygen in the atmosphere. It was dirtier air, filled with far more bacteria, causing her neurons to react in an allergic manner, not used to this new place. 

_Where am I?_ She thought as her eyes combed over her surroundings, looking for any similarities or anything peculiar. Rocky mountains and sun kissed fields full of yellowish shrubbery stretched out before her, the distant sound of a waterfall thundering nearby. The gravel path stretched out in two directions, with no directions to guide any passer-by's. Was this really where her friends were? 

Deciding to head in the direction of the waterfall―knowing hydration would be vital to survive during her travels―she began the stroll down the right hand path. The rocky cliffs were jagged and menacing, shrouding the walkway in shadows. The nun felt an eerie chill run down her spine, her hand tightening on her shuriken on instinct. In the distance, a wolf howled, another answering its call as the winds increased drastically. 

" _Beatrice_ ," a soporific voice whispered in the dark haired woman's ear, causing her to raise her weapon whilst spinning on her heels to face her opponent. 

There was no one there, only a creaking tree that had materialised from thin air. It swayed to an unknown beat, its branches snaking forward, as if they longed to wrap her up in their arms to join the dance. 

" _Beatrice_ ," the voice cooed once more, this time spoken in Camila's voice. _"We wanted you to fight for us, Bea. But you didn't. You're a failure."_

The gravel began to spread apart, cracks forming in the concrete as leaves and then bark curled out of the ground, a leering expression on the tree's face. It's apples were a sour yellow, some of them half rotten, causing wasps to swarm around the disintegrated fruit. _"Now, now, Camila,"_ the tree teased in a sing song voice, elbowing its twin. It sounded exactly like Mary. _"She had no choice, remember? Her little lover died. How...tragic."_

 _"Poor, poor, traumatised Bea,"_ Camila leered, sticking out her soured tongue. The tree closed the hole that was it's mouth, causing squirrels who had misinterpreted the mouth for a hole to squeak in distress as the monster swallowed them whole, belching rudely. _"How delightful. I do love some raw squirrel, don't you, Mary?"_

"You're not real," Beatrice whispered, frozen in shock. How dare these demons use the voices of her pure, selfless friends? "You're not them. They're safe here. You―you're not them!" she cried in pain. 

_"That's right, they're safe,"_ a third tree, swarmed by insects and damp with rot spoke savagely from behind her. This one was definitely Lilith, if the voice was any indication. _"Your friends are safe and happy without you. But here you are, trying to drag them back into a war where you'll all die!"_

 _"Selfish!"_ Camila shrieked, waving her limbs erratically in the air. 

_"Coward! Worthless!"_ Mary sneered scornfully. 

_"Sinner!"_ Lilith spat in disgust, wrapping a bony branch around Beatrice's throat. 

_"I hate you!"_ Shannon bellowed, appearing as a hateful pile of scorched leaves and twigs, two menacing red eyes glaring straight into her soul. 

"I'LL NEVER LOVE YOU!" Ava's voice boomed, louder than the waterfall's shrieking. 

Beatrice plummeted to the ground, landing into a pair of awaiting arms as the demons got the better of her. Again. 


	2. Sweet Nettle Tea

**Beatrice** awoke in an unfamiliar room. Sunlight swarmed through the windows overhead, causing her to groan at the brightness and dull throbbing in her skull. She remembered the cackling and jeering of the demonic trees, but then it all went blank. Sitting up in the unfamiliar bed, she let her eyes pan over the area before her. The bedroom was painted in a shade of tan, similar to that of burnt toast. With the thought of burnt toast, she was reminding of her insatiable appetite and mornings spent in her childhood home, listening to her parents engage in political debates and sharing slices of burnt toast with her brother, Edmond, who unlike her was treated to various confectionary as a reward for good behaviour. 

She shook the memory away, not wanting to think of the years she'd had to bend over backwards to impress them, only to suffer more welts by her father's hand for her sinning. But even as thoughts of her brother were tucked into the furthest corners of mind (under triple lock and key, the wriggling worm) it brought to the surface the memory of one Ava Silva lying on top of her, their body heat and heartbeat one as the nun had tried to fight off another panic attack. She remembered all the intimate staring they'd shared, the touching, the cheek kisses, the confession before Ava's death just hours ago. 

It almost brought tears to her eyes, the realisation that she'd failed the only family she'd ever really had. The trees had been right to yell at her. She'd failed everyone, even herself. She'd been a coward by not telling everyone she was a lesbian and was in love with the halo bearer. She wasn't loyal because she'd fallen in love in the first place, giving her heart to someone else instead of centring it around God. She was a liar and a coward. People were right to hate her. 

_No_ , she commands of herself. _I won't sink into this pit of despair. I have to be reserved and intuitive. I can't trust anyone, not until I bring their memories back._

Beatrice made her way to the wardrobe, opening it and discovering a white button up shirt and jeans inside. It was modest enough, hardly revealing thankfully. The last thing she needed was to attract attention. Shedding the pair of unknown pyjamas, she slipped into her new outfit, admiring herself in the mirror. The shirt was bigger on her than expected, probably due to malnourishment. During Ava's coma she hadn't eaten much, worried to death about the other woman. 

Feeling her nerves rise, Beatrice inhaled a big breath of air. Flowers were scattered all over the room, in pots of various sizes and shapes. The different smells helped relieve her negative energy, a silent prayer of sorts. It was almost like being back in Camila's room at the Cat's Cradle. The younger woman had kept many plants in her room, tending to them with pure love and affection. Due to spending so much time in her fellow sister's room listening to her ramble on about her favourite flowers, Beatrice recognised a few. There were roses of different colours, chamomiles, hyacinths and blue bells. Taking pride of place in the window sill overlooking fields of dry grass, there was a bouquet of orchids neatly tucked into a turquoise pot. Camila's favourites. The sight made her heart ache for one of the woman's hugs, just to see her, to know they were all okay. 

"You're awake," a gruff voice spoke from behind her. Too lost in her thoughts, Beatrice hadn't even heard the stranger approach her. A woman leaned against the doorway, her dark hair combed back into a ponytail, her bulging muscles on display in her short sleeved her tank top. The woman had dark eyes, like swirling orbs of black coffee, radiating hate and deep distrust. But Beatrice knew that within them, there also shone specks of fear and loneliness. She knew this woman. There was no mistaking the high cheekbones, shining with sweat in the bright summer sun. 

Lilith stood before her, but it wasn't the same one. This wasn't the same woman who'd grown up in the OCS with her, who had helped her to become devoted to God and him only when her life had been crumbling like unbaked cookies. This wasn't the girl she'd met in her childhood at boarding school, who had stayed up late at night with her discussing their futures and competing against one another in chess competitions. 

Beatrice took a shaky breath, resisting the urge to throw herself at her sister in happiness. "Umm, hello. Where am I?" 

Lilith pushed herself off the doorway, approaching the other woman. "My house. You were next to the waterfall, babbling on about how you're a failure to everyone you love, repeating the same name over and over like a mantra. You almost made me think you were on drugs, kid," she snorted at the last part. 

Beatrice paled. "What...what name?" She asked quietly, almost afraid to hear the answer. It was killing her to talk to one of the people she cared about the most in the world, a person who didn't even know how special they were to her, and to just receive that blank look. The look of someone that didn't care. 

Lilith was silent for a moment, internally sorting through the good and bad consequences of revealing this piece of information. Finally, she made a decision. "Ava," she murmured, in a voice so gentle that it surprised her. Bea hadn't expected to be pitied by someone who didn't even know who she was, let alone Lilith. It almost made her forget that they weren't at home, back in her world. Lilith continued, "her name was Ava. The way you said it....I could tell she was someone that pains you greatly, but also is a woman you love." 

The raven haired woman gaped in shock. Was it really that obvious that she was madly in love with the brunette? A brief flicker of shame ignited in heart, shame at breaking her vows, but also shame for the fact that she had never told her friends before they died. But here was Lilith-a Lilith that didn't remember her, but Lilith nonetheless-cracking open the biggest secret she'd ever had like it was just as easy as opening a can of beans. 

"Close your mouth," the taller woman scolded, frowning in disapproval. "You'll catch flies and you'll drool all over my shirt. Yeah, believe it or not, it's obvious that you're in love kiddo. I have a wife, I know how you feel. I'd do anything for her, just like I'm sure you'd do anything for your little Ava." 

There was a creak on the stairs, then a woman shorter than the two of them skipped into the room. A peach coloured bandana was wrapped around her head, holding back any loose hair of hers. Her forehead shone with perspiration, a blazing smile on her face as she sidled up besides Lilith, entwining their fingers. It was then that Beatrice noticed the rings on their fingers. So this was Lilith's wife. This was Camila in another life, dressed in grass stained jeans and a raggedy shirt, gardening tools clipped to her duty belt. 

"Honey," Lilith smiled briefly, before turning her attention towards their guest once more. "She's awake. I figured we'd all have a chat downstairs over some of your delicious sweet nettle tea and some crumpets I made this morning." 

"That's a good idea," Camila smiled enthusiastically. "I'm glad you're feeling better. You looked very sick when Lily here brought you home," she said, addressing the nun. 

Beatrice smiled weakly, a little overcome with emotion, but masking it. Just. "Oh, sorry about that. Must've been something I ate," she mumbled the last part. 

They all knew it was a lie, Lilith narrowing her eyes in suspicion at the newcomer. None of them dare commented on it though, instead the sister warrior followed the wives down the stairs towards the kitchen. In every hallway, there were pictures of Lilith and Camila, happy as ever. Beatrice swallowed her guilt, knowing that if they ever did get their memories back, there was a chance she'd have ruined the lives of two very special and joyful people (well, Lilith could be joyful. At least that's what the pictures depicted). 

Beatrice sat down at the table, half hoping that this was all a dream. That she'd wake up in the morning and they'd be ready to set Plan Bernadette into action. But the ache inside her heart couldn't be faked by her sleep induced mind, for it was so deep and prominent that she had expected blood to be dribbling down and soaking the borrowed shirt. 

"So," Lilith started the conversation, setting down a chipped mug of tea in front of the new woman she'd met just yesterday. The nun accepted the beverage gratefully, letting the sweet taste of nettles run over the roof of her mouth. Camila took her place at the table next to wife, placing her hand on her thigh possessively. "Where are you from, newbie?" Lilith asked through a mouthful of buttery crumpet. 

Beatrice's mind went blank. How was she supposed to answer that without giving the game away? "Oh you know," she muttered vaguely as she soaked her crumpet in her drink, "here and there." 

Camila exchanged a look with her wife, before turning back to the nun. "Well....are you just stopping by, or do you have somewhere to stay permanently?"

"I'm sticking around for a while," Beatrice decided eventually, thinking it would be a good idea to stick close to two people that she knew. At least until she found the others and brought their memories back. "Unfortunately, I don't have anywhere to stay." 

Camila smiled softly. "Well, in that case―" 

"Hell no," Lilith chimed in indignantly. "Cam, I love you, but we're not having a stranger staying at our house. She arrived here with a sword and throwing stars for Pete's sakes!" 

"I understand your want for privacy, Lily, but we must be welcoming to all," Camila chastised. "Don't you remember when you showed up in this town and I offered to give you a home when none of the other villagers would, even when you were on your death bed? I won't let that happen to another soul." 

Lilith gritted her teeth. "Fine. But she must do her chores and help out around the farm." 

Camila smiled. "I agree. Now, new kid, what's your name?" 

"Beatrice," she replied truthfully, and Lilith's eyebrows furrowed further. 

"Huh, that's strange," she said, her grip tightening around her mug. "There used to be a Beatrice at my old boarding school back in Switzerland. We were best friends. The kid was at the top of all her classes, a devoted Catholic. She was a people pleaser and didn't care who knew it. All she wanted was her family's approval. One day though, at the start of October break when we were eleven, she was sent a letter. It had a red envelope and was addressed to her in purple ink. When I gave to her, she went a sickly shade of green. The next day, she killed herself in a fire in the school's chapel." 

Beatrice paled. _Oh no, no, no, no..._

"Funny thing is," Lilith sneered, leaning forward menacingly. "You look just like her. A Brit, the same eyes. Almost like her exact twin. So tell me...who the fuck are you, really?" 


	3. The Farm Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More will be coming soon. Updates are slow.

**The** sun beat down on her spine, making the sweat stained material of her shirt feel like a band of scorching hot metal clamping down on her, constricting the movement of her organs and causing her skin to swell with angry red, itchy and irritating blisters. The shirt chafed against her skin, making a scowl much like Lilith's own stretch across her face. She glanced over briefly at the other woman, who stood a few meters away, dressed in some shorts and a tank top, her tanned flesh blazing like a golden statue. She could've been one, too, expect for the fact that she was aggressively tugging carrots out of the vegetable patch as Beatrice watched on, dumbfounded, rake in hand as she stared at the mowed hay spread across the field. 

She knew that rakes lifted mowed hay from the swath and placed it in a loose windrow with the green leaves inside to protect them from the sun's rays, but she still felt incredibly useless. Camila had shown her how to operate the swather, but she had chosen to do it by hand instead, not trusting herself to man such a menacing machine. 

Lilith still didn't trust her either, not after her suspiciousness regarding the dead Beatrice. She had said she was from America, and had been studying English with some relatives in Bristol, resulting in her developing an accent. It was a well constructed lie, but Lilith's eyes still narrowed at her even after her wife had ushered her away when she looked ready to bite someone's head off. Beatrice knew that in her universe, she'd taught Lilith how to see through lies when they were kids in boarding school, and she wondered if the other Beatrice had to. 

She'd felt briefly guilty upon hearing the story about her parallel self, wondering if she didn't enter this universe, would the other Beatrice have lived? If she didn't enter this world and changed the equations of the space time continuum, fitting a new plot into the story, would that young girl have not killed herself to make room for her double in the future? Would fate have been kinder had she not come here? 

"Oi!" Lilith shouted in her face, spit flying from her mouth as she towered over the nun, her face beet red as she harshly poked Beatrice in the forehead. "Are you deaf or something, newbie? Don't just stand there, get back to work you blockhead!" 

"Oh, right," Beatrice mumbled, awkwardly shuffling so as to begin to sweep the produce into piles. Lilith watched her for a few moments, letting out the odd exasperated sigh, before angrily stomping off to continue tearing vegetables out of the earth. 

Beatrice would wish, hours later as she sat in the guest room that was surrounded by more plants―much like the room of the married couple she'd first woken up in―that she had asked to borrow some sunscreen as she sat there, awkwardly trying to rub aloe vera on her own back. She didn't realise that through all the hard labour, it would result in even more discomfort, more than she was feeling now as she stood to scoop the last dregs of hay into her first pile, the shirt chafing uncomfortably once more. She didn't know that her pale skin would be swatted with even more blisters and a bright red sunburn, resulting in a lack of hot showers for the rest of the week due to the agony of the wound. 

The next morning, the burn felt even worse. Beatrice sighed, twisting the cap of the ointment open, dragging her fingers through the gloop, hissing as the cold respite contacted the prominent ache of the burn. Camila had a wild scuffle with her wife when she found out about it, claiming it was Lilith's fault for not offering their guest any sunscreen. She definitely wasn't in the demoness' good book for the next week or so, but Camila certainly made up for it, bringing her cold drinks during her shift and even gifting her one of their spare hats to protect her scalp. 

By next week, the burn was barely visible, and she was back to being nobody. She wasn't even Camila's patient anymore, which sucked, because that was the only time she'd been able to talk to the other woman, considering that Lilith made sure to keep Beatrice away from her family, begrudgingly letting her sit at the table for meals. If she was being honest, Beatrice didn't blame her. Who would trust a stranger? Much less one from a parallel universe. 

On the weekend of the second week, the wives had their new worker run into town to do some shopping, promising to pay her extra at the end of the month. Since then, it had become a ritual of sorts. On weekdays, she'd do various chores around the farm, such as planting vegetables or ploughing the hay, sometimes even cleaning out the horse stables. On weekends, she'd be given a list and a fair some of euros, before she'd gallop into town atop the family horse, Peanut. 

Beatrice had met Peanut on her third week there. Lilith had been giving the horse a bath, instructing her assistant to hold the beast steady as she lathered the dirt stained fur with soap and water. Since then, the nun would spend most of her free time getting the creature to trust her, until at last, he was docile. Then, she had been aloud to start riding him. At first, both of her hosts were reluctant, until Beatrice had assured them that she'd been riding horses much bigger and far less tame than theirs since she was six. It was one of the only truths she'd told so far. 

Riding Peanut was one of her most relaxing pastimes. He had the softest coat, a coppery ginger in colour, his mane an often dishevelled white. When she finally left this universe, she knew she would miss the animal dearly, causing a pang of sickness to radiate in her heart at the thought. She pushed the thought aside though, as she demounted her steed and went to greet the various vendors in the market, buying milk, cheese, meat and other delicacies that would stored in the pantry until Sunday dinner. 

After Sunday dinner, which had consisted of smoky sausages, cheese and a scrumptious homemade trifle, Beatrice retired to bed. Her stomach was filled to the brim with fine food, the smell of the laundry detergent grounding her to the moment as she listened to the crickets chirping in the grass heavens below, an owl hooting in a tree nearby, Peanut answering its call with a faint neigh. It was all so, so simple that she almost forgot why she was even here. She almost forgot that this wasn't her home, that she was part of the Order, that she was hear for a greater purpose. 

She forgot until it happened. 

Having been granted back her habit and the Cruciform Sword, she was able to relax slightly, knowing that if Adriel and his army back home ever did find her, she was at least armed. Before dinner ever evening, she would jog around the farm, ending her circuit inside the barn, where she'd stretch for a few minutes before practicing strikes and defensive manoeuvres with the divinium weapon. It at least reassured her that she had a purpose, that she was powerful. In one way, anyhow. 

But one evening everything changed. So far, the sword hadn't pulsed blue since she'd picked it up before entering the portal, the weapon remaining a dull silver blade. This wasn't surprising, considering she had no angelic powers. But this evening, it did. Briefly, the blade sputtered back to life, before dying once more. Beatrice frowned, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her. 

Then, suddenly, it sparked into life, causing her to yelp in awe and surprise. But mainly concern. She hadn't know what triggered the blade the first time it glowed in her grasp, nor did she know this time, because she certainly wasn't a halo bearer. The halo was with Adriel. At least back in her world, it was. Could things be different in this dimension? Even as she thought that, she knew it was ridiculous. There was only one halo, alternate universes didn't change that. 

Right? 


	4. Questions, theories and terror

**Life** was like a rose, really. There were moments when all you felt was the giddiness of spring and summer, when sun rays rained down on you and happiness bubbled inside of you like bits of microscopic pollen. But everyone went through a period of time when their petals would shed and they were exposed to the ruthless storms, left with nothing but garbled thorns. The petals could bloom back, but sometimes that was never the case.

Beatrice remembered thinking those thoughts before she visited her parents. She had written it down in a spare notebook, knowing that her English teacher would've been proud had she turned that paragraph in during a descriptive task. Of course, she was an adult now. She didn't have time to think about her past and what she could've done to change it, because she had more pressing matters at hand.

For example, she had made the Cruciform Sword glow. Again. She stuffed the weapon beneath a bale of straw, before sprinting across the fields that were shrouded in the navy blue of the night's shadows, desperate to order her thoughts and plan out on paper. It was what she did best. Planning. And helplessly fawning over Ava Silva, but that wasn't the point.

Once inside of her room, she began jotting down notes in her notebook. First, she structured a chronologically ordered timeline for both her universe, and what she knew of this one. With that done, she began writing down theories about how the halo's power could've transferred to her in the first place. But none of her ideas made any logical sense.

Why would the Beatrice in this universe have had the halo, resulting in it being transferred to her upon her arrival on this planet? That couldn't be true. Only divinium could kill a halo bearer, and the her in this universe had perished in a fire. That ruled out that possibility. Her only other idea was that maybe it had something to do with love. Could the angelic power have been fused between them because of....because of love?

That theory just brought up more questions to be asked. Was she ready to admit she was in love with Ava? Could she really admit that, when she had never even been in love before? How was that even possible? Surely the halo didn't split its power between two.

It just couldn't be.

⊗⊗⊗

Back in the other universe, Adriel reclined in his throne made of the bones of his enemies. It had been a project he'd been working on for many years now, but finally it had come true. His servants―all faithful demons―had captured a castle for him. The castle was in Scotland, and it sat atop a cliff drop, which plummeted into the murky expanse of blue-green waters. He was very pleased with all that he had accomplished, and everyone knew it. Especially Vincent.

The ex priest had seen his master bounding around the castle like a puppy that had just been given an entire turkey to feast on. The sight filled him with pride, but he couldn't help but feel guilty all at the same time. Before he'd ended up working for the demon, he had thought he would spend the rest of his life devoted to God and his church. But that had been before he'd been approached by Adriel, who had saved him when he so desperately needed it.

Since he was a young child, he had become involved with some very bad people who made him work off a debt his father owed them. He had spent many nights and days taking part in illegal activities, many of which involved the transport of drugs and firearms. During his work for the organization, he began addicted to many of these substances, along with alcohol.

At age sixteen, Vincent thought his life was falling apart. But that was before a follower of Adriel had approached him, and she had invited him into her church. Every Sunday, he would pray away his sins and could talk freely about them with other worshippers without shame. Life became better again. He became sober and stopped smoking, and eventually―after paying off his father's debt―the gang of thugs let him go.

However, he should've known that every good deed could come with a price. The same woman approached him after mass one day and invited him to a dinner party she was hosting with some other members of the church. Eager to make friends, he had agreed. But what he hadn't known was that night, he would learn the truth about his church and its members.

They weren't followers of God, they were actually followers of Satan. It was on that night that they introduced him to Adriel, who by now had escaped Hell with the halo. He was a tall and charming man, with a long, matted beard and unreadable eyes. He had appeared to the group of guests in a hologram of sorts, and Vincent had watched with wide eyes as everyone gushed over him and raised their glasses in welcome.

After that night, he returned to the woman―her name was Martha, a kind old woman with sagging blue eyes that could've been mistaken for grey and salt and pepper hair always done up in a bun―to ask if he could speak to the hellish lord once more. He had learned by now that his soon to be master was trapped in a tomb in the Vatican, believed to be a pile of bones and a dead mortal man. If only they knew.

Every night since then he would stay up late talking to Adriel about everything he wanted in life and all that troubled him. The demon would listen with interest, combing his fingers through his straggly beard as he paced around his tomb. It was one night, as the young man was launching into a discussion about God that Adriel asked him a question.

 _"My dear boy," he had said in a silvery voice, his eyes sparkling with ancient wisdom and something else. Something unreadable. He was always unreadable_. _"Do you believe in God, Vincent? Do you believe he can give you all that you desire?"_

_"I don't know," he had replied, uncertain. The alcohol brought truth out of his soul, and he was left there, vulnerable and confused in front of his superior._

It was then that Adriel had proceeded to give him his mission. A mission that involved infiltrating the OCS, training a sect of demon hunting warrior nuns so that one day―once he had captured the Order's trust―he may free his true master. But Shannon had gotten in the way. She had found out where his true loyalty lay, and he had been forced to have her murdered.

But what made him feel truly guilty about this situation was betraying Lilith, Camila, Mary, Beatrice and Ava. He had grown close to all of them, but in the end, he had chosen the side of hell. And he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad idea.

Maybe it was both.

But he knew one thing.

Beatrice would stop at nothing to bring her sisters back. And that terrified him.


	5. The Visit To Madame Blaire's

**Ava** Silva sighed as the corset's straps were tightened around her torso, making her wince as the material restricted her airflow and left an uncomfortable pressure on her ribs and breasts. Of course, the shop clerks didn't seem to care or notice as they fumbled with the measuring tape, recording the size of her waist, legs, arms and so on. It was a very dull experience, made all the worse by the presence of the infamous manager of the shop, Madame Blaire. 

She was a rather tall woman, with pale skin that resembled the makeup people would've worn in the Elizabethan era _._ The makeup that was achieved by applying egg whites and ochres to people's cheeks. A mole―Ava could never tell if it was real or not, since Madame Blaire would never let anyone get close enough to her face to tell―sat near the upper left corner of her mouth, the paleness of her skin making the zit's dark colour stand out. A pair of old fashioned glasses with a golden chain that was looped around her neck were perched on her nose, rhinestones glittering in through the store's windows, making the stones sparkle. Her lips were decorated with a ruby red lipstick that drew everyone's eyes to her mouth, making the brunette cringe at how desperate she was. 

Ava and her fiancé would visit this store regularly whenever they were in need of new clothes, and her husband to be was very fond of the store's manager. Ava would never understand how he could be kind to such a ghastly being. Madame Blaire wasn't afraid to walk around London as if she owned it, and boy, did everyone know it. Still, the city's patrons respected her for her well known fashion. In Ava's opinion, it was far too old fashioned―the skirts and dresses looked as if they had been made centuries ago with their ruffles and bland designs―but her soon to be husband loved the dresses on her, so she didn't complain, even though she badly wanted to. 

"Too wide," Madame Blaire chastised her employees as they looked up from where they were knelt at Ava's feet, tape and other equipment littered across the floor of the large changing room. The clerks let out sighs of exhaustion, and Ava couldn't blame them. Madame Blaire―even though she preferred to be known strictly as 'Madame'―never bothered to do any of the work, she was really just there to advertise the business and boss others around. 

And boy, did she love bossing Ava about. She knew that the brunette hated her visits to the store, so she made sure to take an abnormal amount of time judging and fussing over her clothes. It was a non-violent but just as painful torture. 

"Seriously?" Ava scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Any tighter and you'll literally suffocate my boobs. With all due respect, _Madame_ , I'll take the size I had thirty minutes ago. The one I could breathe in," she snapped before grabbing her clothes she had arrived in and storming out of the changing room. 

Her fiancée, JC, looked up from his phone as she dashed out. He was wearing a suit he had just purchased, one that he thought would be suitable―pun intended―for a dinner with some business partners next week. He had wanted his soon to be wife to be dressed in appropriate attire, but had not expected for her to dash out of the changing room whilst he was in the middle of a game of Candy Crush. 

He caught up to her quickly. She was standing in the middle of Hyde Park, lost in her own thoughts. JC took a moment to admire her beauty when she was concentrating before walking towards her. It was as he came into earshot that he realised Ava was on the phone, and he stopped short upon hearing the beginning of her conversation. 

"How is that possible?" Ava asks the person on the other end of the line. He can tell from her tone that she's biting her bottom lip, a nervous habit of hers. He badly wants to run up and comfort her, but then again, he wants to find out what this mysterious phone call is all about. So he stays put, watching from afar, but still within earshot.

The trees blow softly in the breeze, leaves swirling around the park. Ava's hair blew along with them, her lithe form shivering in the cold. It was the middle of summer, but for all the citizens of London knew, it could've been the start of autumn. JC was so lost in his thoughts about nature and the woman in front of him that he almost didn't hear what she said next. 

Almost. 

"How on Earth is Beatrice alive, Lilith?" 

_Oh shit_ , he thought. _I'm fucked._


	6. The Reappearance of a Ghost

**She** had tried everything. Beatrice checked out countless books from the village library on love being linked to supernatural abilities and spiritual connections, she stole, no _borrowed_ , Lilith's laptop to browse the web for any answers, finding many discussions on love and spiritual bonding on sites like Reddit and Quora. However she came up blank, only feeling more confused―and guilty for taking the laptop in the first place when Lilith began complaining about the numerous emails she was getting from the sites―and turned towards simply trying to test out the halo's power. If she even had the halo, that is. 

Beatrice spent a lot of time testing her endurance and strength, lifting heavy equipment during her shifts, doing extra push-ups and sit-ups in the barn as well as climbing numerous trees. She certainly seemed able to withstand all the extra work, but her muscles were straining immensely the next day. 

But there were still questions to be answered: 

Was there a halo bearer in this realm? 

Did a second Adriel and Vincent exist here? 

When would she meet the other girls? 

Where was Ava? 

Were this OCS aware of her intrusion on their planet? 

She could think of only one person who could answer her questions. 

⊗⊗⊗

The Vatican was exactly as she remembered, only in this universe, it hadn't been blown up. For all she knew, no one had ever plotted any harm against it in this world, but that probably wasn't true. This was a holy site, and evil would've surely tried to have destroyed it before. Beatrice took a deep breath, crossing herself once, before entering the building, dressed in her habit so as to blend in with everyone else. 

Nuns were walking around the building along with Swiss guards stationed at every entrance and exit, blank expressions on their faces and steel spears gripped in their strong fists. Dressed in their yellow, red and blue matching uniforms, she began to feel intimidated, remembering the last time she was here. But no one knew who she was, so she breathed a sigh of relief. 

The further into the Vatican she travelled, the more curious glances she received―probably wondering why a nun needed to be this far down and who she was―but she continued on her journey, finally reaching the tombs. Torches flickered in their scones, bathing the dimly lit crypt in an eerie orange glow similar to the light shining from pumpkins on Halloween. 

Finally, she found it. The wall that concealed his tomb. Just like she suspected, someone had already been here. A note was pinned to the wall with tape, written in scarlet blood: 

_I know you're there._

_-A_

The message sent chills down her spine. 


End file.
